


Valenwind: Crusader Rain

by Beruthiels Cat (Vinvalen)



Category: FF7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinvalen/pseuds/Beruthiels%20Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aboard the Highwind airship, Vincent receives a strange invitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valenwind: Crusader Rain

# 

 

Vincent cocked his head in curiosity, peering down at the simple white envelope which had been slipped under the door of his quarters only moments before. The outside of it held no other clue than his name printed in as legible a hand as the _Highwind's_ captain ever managed.   
  
The manner of delivery was highly unusual in itself; if Cid had something to say, he usually came right out with it, face to face, most often in a rather abrupt manner as he brushed past in a corridor on his way to somewhere else. Over time, Vincent had learned not to take offense at Cid's mercurial nature, especially in the weeks following the recovery of his beloved airship. In trying to be everywhere at once, bringing the ship he had built with his own hands back into optimum condition, as well as dealing with the erratic nature of their pursuit of Sephiroth. As a result, Vincent felt Cid had earned a few extra eccentricities and accepted his resulting volatility as a matter of course.   
  
Cid was not always prickly, however. The pilot showed the caring side of his nature, not with words, but by actions designed to keep the others of their team as safe and as comfortable as possible in the midst of their unpredictable circumstances. He was the Captain; and therefore well acquainted with the responsibilities such a position entailed. It was the manifestation of this facet of Cid's personality which most impressed Vincent, where in the beginning he had been merely tolerant. As master of the _Highwind,_ Cid was in his glory. It naturally followed that he would run a tight ship, and the team, though not under his direct command, reaped the reward of Cid's new pride in himself and his abilities.  
  
Vincent smiled to himself at the memory of the days immediately following Cid's reestablishment as Captain of the _Highwind._ One of the first orders of business had been the assignment of quarters. Vincent therefore found himself in the cabin immediately adjacent to Cid's own; a comfortable room with its own bath, a placement usually reserved for the Captain's second in command. Situated as it was at the end of a corridor, it was both private and quiet.

When Vincent would have objected, Cid merely grinned and said: "Figured you might not be used to all the racket the rest of us makes yet. Then the pilot's face sobered. Ya need a place to call yer own, Vince, and I'm glad ta be able to offer ya one. Besides…I didn't hear me call fer a vote, so shut up and get settled in."  
And that had been that. Many times since, Vincent had been glad of the retreat.   
  
And thus had begun the next phase of a strange friendship. Cid gave Vincent his privacy, and Vincent repaid him by keeping close watch over the pilot whenever the team found themselves facing opposition. If Cid just happened to think a certain type of engine oil would be perfect for the hinges of Vincent's gauntlet, it appeared in a small basket by his door. If Vincent's enhanced hearing detected a mechanical noise that didn't sound quite right, he helped the pilot trace its source. Cid found two bottles of Banora apple wine hidden away in a storage closet and gave the gunman one of them; Vincent made certain the airship's guns remained in prime condition.   
  
  
At least this unspoken understanding had been Vincent's previous experience with the gruff and often boisterous Captain. Lately, however, it seemed that Cid had been deliberately seeking him out. Not obviously, of course, but appearing more often and seemingly at random wherever Vincent happened to be. Added to this was the pilot's uncharacteristic reticence in the gunman's presence, which only served to make the situation much more intriguing.  Cid Highwind was many things, but he was rarely quiet.   
  
And so, Vincent had settled himself to see what would happen next. Many times in the past weeks the gunman had caught Cid staring at him when he thought Vincent unaware. For the most part, these encounters took place in the ship's small lounge; where Cid would wander in with some technical manual or other in hand, settle into a sea after acknowledging Vincent's presence, and spend an hour or so pretending to read. On more than a few occasions during these encounters, the pilot appeared on the verge of speaking, only to give a minute and abrupt shake of his head before clamping his lips into a thin line and remaining silent. Eventually and inevitably, this unusual behavior would be followed by an almost inaudible sigh as Cid's gaze drifted to some vague, middle distance. Still, his eyes would flick unerringly to Vincent and quickly away again, before he finally rose from his chair and departed.  
  
Apparently, whatever was on the pilot's mind had at least found partial outlet in the message which now lay just beyond the brass point of Vincent's left shoe. Reaching down, he carefully retrieved it, noting as he did so that the envelope was sealed. Cid was giving him the option of disposing of it without having to acknowledge that it had ever existed. Obviously, whatever the message contained, it was of personal importance to its sender; and Vincent decided the honorable thing to do would be to at least open it and learn what the pilot had to say.  
  
The message itself was written on paper as plain as the envelope which contained it; comprised of only a few, obviously hastily written lines. Almost as if the sender had sealed and delivered it before he had time to change his mind. The content, as well as the manner of its wording brought a flicker of astonishment to Vincent's features; for he would never have believed the pilot purposely employing such formal means of communication.   
  
  
_Vincent,  
  
Please allow me your company tomorrow evening on the bridge, 8 pm.   
  
Cid_  
  
  
It was obviously an invitation; but to what purpose?  
  
The abrupt manner of Cid's delivery was at least consistent, and Vincent found himself actually looking forward to the possibility of learning what had occupied the pilot's mind to such an extent. Tomorrow evening, he knew, the airship would dock at Rocket Town, and her crew given leave until the following morning. Thus, if Cid had wanted private conversation, he assured himself of there being no possibility of being overheard as he revealed whatever it was he'd decided to say. This in itself was cause for concern, and Vincent thought upon the possible implications late into the night.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The following evening, Vincent was glad he'd opted to alter his customary appearance a bit, in response to the formality of Cid's request. The safety of his voluminous red cape had been left behind in his cabin, along with the brass gauntlet. Instead, he donned a pair of black silk gloves, and had taken special care with the conditioning of his leathers until they softly gleamed. The bandana remained, but his brass footwear was replaced by a pair of soft black boots.  
  
As he stepped silently into the Captain's domain, only the instrument LEDs and a pair of   candles illuminated the setting. Personally, Vincent liked the bridge lit in such a manner, and was well used to the pilot's habit of doing so on the late watches. If he blurred his vision just a bit, the various colors became a rainbow-hued constellation, or a fortune in materia, strewn upon black velvet.   
  
Cid waited for him before a small table placed before the great windows. One hand gripped the back of one of the pair of chairs beside it. The fingers of the other twitched slightly, the only visible betrayal of the pilot's nervousness. Beyond the great windows behind him, the sky darkened with approaching storm, lending a sense of the surreal to Cid's efforts. The table was laid with dinner for two.   
  
Not only the unusual setting captured Vincent's surprised attention. Cid was dressed in a manner the gunman had never before observed. The pilot's ever-present goggles were missing, and his hair lay soft and shining where it usually spiked from Cid's habit of absently running his hands through it. Instead of his standard t-shirt, he wore a long-sleeved, button-down blue silk shirt which matched the color of his eyes. A pair of jeans, so new their indigo was unfaded completed the outfit, along with a pair of comfortable-looking casual shoes, shined to perfection.  
  
Vincent hesitated. Something about the intimacy of the setting and Cid's appearance spoke of more than their past, casual interactions when Cid found himself in a cooking mood and wanted someone to share the results. This…this was different. When Vincent accepted Cid's invitation, he hadn't realized it was intended as a date.   
  
Cid immediately noted Vincent's trepidation, becoming shy and almost hesitant. He shifted his balance and cleared his throat before speaking, determined to follow through with his plan.  
  
"Thanks for comin', Vince," he said quietly. "I wasn't sure ya would."  
  
Vincent's inherent honesty spoke for him as he attempted to overcome his sudden misgivings. Still, he softened his tone so his reply wouldn't sound like an accusation.  
  
"I almost didn't. In the end, however, curiosity won out. The unprecedented formality of your invitation was most intriguing, but I wondered at the motive which prompted it.   There seems to be much on your mind of late."   
  
Cid sighed, reaching to run his fingers through his hair, but caught himself before indulging the nervous gesture. His hand instead swept to indicate the chairs placed to either side of the small table, inviting Vincent to sit. "Yeah," the pilot replied softly. "I can't argue with ya there." Behind him, lightning flashed across the sky, followed closely by the first spatters of rain across the great windows as Cid continued. "As long as yer here, let me feed ya?"  
  
Vincent stood unmoving for another long moment before moving forward. His attention had been so occupied by the pilot's out-of-character appearance that he had missed the aroma of steaks done to perfection on Cid's tiny grill, and the scent of roasted vegetables which accompanied them. Such special efforts to please deserved acknowledgment, and Vincent gave a tiny smile before moving with silent grace to the place where Cid had drawn back one of the chairs for him.  
  
"Thank you…it looks delicious," Vincent replied softly, his smile deepening a bit more, allowing it to reach his jeweled eyes. Any other observer would probably not have noted the minute change, but Cid saw it immediately, answering with a smile of his own as Vincent seated himself. Determined to put the pilot at ease as Cid served the both of them, he continued his quiet praise.  
  
"Your cooking is always to be enjoyed," he complimented as Cid poured their wine. The pilot's smiled broadened, and Vincent's suspicions that this was indeed intended as a date were confirmed when he detected a faint blush staining Cid's cheeks. The gunman took a sip of the remaining bottle of Banora wine, obviously saved for this occasion. He also noted the presence of one of Aerith's delicate shawls serving as their tablecloth, and hoped it would survive the occasion without mishap. The accompanying winds of the storm made the ship sway a bit erratically at its moorings, causing the wine to shiver and ripple within their glasses.   
"I am surprised you chose to stay aboard, rather than go home for the evening," Vincent observed as they began eating.  
  
"Any other time I probably would have," Cid replied. "But this day is kinda special, an' I wanted to share it with ya."  
  
Intrigued, Vincent invited his companion to elaborate. "Special? How so? Did I miss something?" He knew it wasn't Cid's birthday, so that couldn't be the reason behind the invitation. Still, he felt the occasion and Cid's recent reticence were somehow related; but when the answer came, it was not as he'd expected.  
  
As they ate, Cid began to speak of the town, following with the tale of his grandparents, who had been the founders of the place and offering glimpses of the child he'd been.   
"It was Granna that taught me to love the storms we got. Maybe that was why I took to the sky. Sometimes I just wanna be up there in the middle of it, ya know?"  
  
Vincent could indeed appreciate such a sentiment. Chaos had given him flight, and in his darkest moments, the gunman clung to the ability as comfort. To be amidst the greatest elements of air and come away unharmed by their power was a humbling experience, and Vincent was thankful for it. The sky gave him perspective; making him feel as if he could touch something greater; something beyond the misery of his earthbound past. He would never have known this transcendence had he not been given wings. As ceaselessly as Vincent struggled with his demons, he considered the gift of flight as priceless. He nodded in agreement, knowing the pilot would understand. "Indeed."  
  
Their conversation drifted comfortably from one topic to the next, Cid replenishing their glasses as Vincent leaned back, his attention drawn by an exceptionally vivid streak of lightning. Cid glanced up also, following the lightning's path to the horizon before his gaze dropped to his hands where they rested upon the table, one hand idly twirling the handle of his fork between his fingers.   
  
"When I was a kid, Granna told me a story every year on this day." Cid began, his manner solemn as he lay the fork beside his plate, his gaze moving once more to fix upon the sky beyond the windows. The storm had gained in intensity, its thunder and lightning almost constant now. "She said a storm that comes on this day has a name." Without waiting for a response, Cid spoke again; the words taking on a cadence Vincent had never heard before from him. The gunman realized Cid was reciting a well-loved tale from memory, exactly as it had been told to him; in the time-honored tradition of the old Storytellers. The gunman settled himself more comfortably, captivated by such a welcome treat.  
  
"Seems like a long time ago, there were two Dragon Knights who guarded Ramuh's shrine. Such was the power of the one that he seemed invincible. The other, rather than being jealous of him, instead desired to be like him. In time, the lesser of the pair found he didn't want so much to have the other's power and ability as he simply wanted to spend his life in his shadow, though he never told him so. It was enough to have his company." Here Cid paused to sip his wine, and Vincent noticed the blush from before had returned. It seemed Cid was either unwilling or unable to meet his eyes as he spoke, and something within him felt the lack as a pang of regret.   
  
Raising his own glass, Vincent also looked to the raging sky; relieving the pilot of the intensity of his gaze. "Did she say what became of them?"   
  
"One day, a great darkness fell upon the shrine, and out of that darkness dragons attacked; many of them. The fight raged for days it seemed, though they had no way of knowing, for the dragons called a darkness the sun could not break. The two warriors were almost overcome by the numbers of their enemy, though they fought valiantly and Ramuh himself aided them with the magic of his Thunder, and Lightning for them to see their enemies. But the Shrine was destroyed, and the greater of the two was struck down; carried away while his companion was too exhausted and weak to defend him. The one who remained took up the weapon which had fallen from the other's hand, along with his own glaive; swearing a great vow to seek and avenge his companion and that together they would regain their honor and rebuild Ramuh's Shrine.  
  
And so the Knight set forth, giving his life to his searching. Though he traveled every land, there was neither trace nor word of his companion, but the Knight refused to abandon his quest. After many seasons, he came at last to a great mountain; where upon its peak lay a cave. Around the mouth of it was utter desolation, the stench of carrion rising thickly as though even the wind could not dispel it; and the Knight knew he had at last reached the end of his journey. Determined to seek his lost Companion, even if all that remained of him was an empty shell. He entered the cave, bringing Ramuh's Thunder and Lightning with him.  
  
Within the cave, he crept with great stealth and cunning, until he at last found the one he had sought through many weary days; his Companion lying upon a great slab of stone, as if he were asleep. But his wounds seemed as fresh as the day they were given him, though they did not bleed. The Knight knew then that some dreadful and mighty spell held his Companion in its grasp. As the Knight gazed upon him, all around the dragons woke, rising to challenge, for he made no effort to conceal his presence. He brought his glaive forth to battle, and unleashed Ramuh's power within the cave, giving voice to his rage and sorrow. When his great glaive embedded in one of his enemy too deeply to withdraw, he drew his Companion's sword and fought on. Strike after strike he cast with Ramuh's orb, until at last he had again gained his Companion's side and dragons lay dying all around.   
  
But the brave Knight had not won. With the death of  his enemies, the dragons' spell was released, and the wounds of his companion bled anew. The knight gathered him in his arms, weeping as his Companion's spirit fled. Gone before hearing the words the knight had waited so long to speak."  
  
A final crash of thunder accompanied Cid's pause; the clouds and rain breaking away to reveal the night sky behind.   
  
And Vincent gasped in wonder at what he saw there.  
  
"The Knight carried his beloved Companion away from that awful place, determined to bring him home. Only when he had made his way beyond the cave's entrance and far enough from its foulness to lay him gently upon the sweet grass did the Knight give full voice to his grief." Cid paused once more, taking a deep breath. When he continued, his voice was thick with unshed tears.  
  
"The sky answered. All around the Knight fell a rain of tiny stars. They sparkled as diamonds, and he gazed in awe as the brightest of them came to rest near his hand. Gentle in its glowing, it seemed to speak to him, calling for him to answer. The Knight took it up, thinking it a worthy gift for such a one as his Companion had been. Placing it softly upon that noble breast, he folded the cold, still hand about the shining orb and lay himself down beside him. Uncaring of what should become of himself, The knight placed his own hand over that of his companion and closed his eyes."  
  
Behind Cid, stars streaked across the night, dancing as they faded to the horizon.  
  
"He thought it merely a vain imagining when the Knight felt his Companion's chest rise with breath, but opened his eyes, beholding with wonder as the star cast a shimmering brightness over the still form before fading once more to a soft glow, and his Companion's eyes opened to look upon him."   
  
Beyond the great windows of the airship where the storm had raged earlier, the sky poured forth a rain of stars.  
  
"It is said the stars that rained down that day burrowed quietly into the earth; seeking the Lifestream, to be carried to secret places where they would again come forth to answer the call of one in great need."  
  
Cid reached for his glass and drained the last of his wine, the Crusader's Rain sparkling in the depths of his eyes as his gaze turned from the remembered past to Vincent; who sat spellbound by all he had heard, a soft smile gracing his porcelain features.  
     
"My Granda said we come from Dragon Knights," Cid continued with a rueful smile. "I dunno. But it was him what gave me the Gospel, as had his granda afore him." The pilot reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small pouch. Easing its string open, he carefully tipped something into his hand.  He then reached for Vincent's wrist and placed a tiny, shimmering star within his palm before folding the fingers of Vincent's damaged left hand around it. "I want ya to have this, just in case anythin' should ever happen."  
  
A swiftly indrawn breath through parted lips was the only evidence of the tingling sensation which seemed to engulf Vincent's left arm from fingertips to shoulder. It was as if a whispered promise traveled from the orb in the gunman's hand to the materia embedded within his chest. His jeweled eyes blinked in shock before his gaze snapped to meet his companion's, his thoughts overwhelmed as he attempted to speak. Surely Cid must have known Vincent would never be able to call upon its power for the purpose it was intended… therefore the incredible rarity and priceless nature of this gift was a statement of profound trust. When Vincent at last found his voice, Cid held up a hand to still his protests of unworthiness. "I got good reasons" the pilot replied quietly, before tipping the pouch to reveal yet another shimmering orb; a twin to the first.  
  
Vincent watched in awe as the tiny star in Cid's hand and the one in his own flared and shimmered, seeming to mirror the sudden brightness of those that danced in the night sky beyond. In a few moments, the pair settled to a warm and steady glow, pulsing as if they shared a single heartbeat. It seemed impossible, but Vincent could have sworn he felt both of them, rather than the one he knew he knew lay within his curled fingers.   
  
Breaking his attention from the calming, almost hypnotic sight, Vincent's gaze flicked to Cid's great spear, leaning against the bulkhead in its place of honor beyond the ship's wheel. Only someone with Vincent's keen sight could have discerned the faint tracery of the runes which adorned its blade; foremost among them, the sigil of the ancient Dragon Knights.   
  
Against all logic, the gunman believed what he had heard as more than legend; more than just a story handed down through countless generations. He wondered if Cid knew the runes were there, and decided if he did not, then someday Vincent would tell him. His jeweled eyes met the pilot's earnest blue and held.  
  
"It may be too soon, and I know ya ain't got reason to believe me, but I couldn't stand not lettin' ya how I feel. The best day of my life was findin' ya in that basement, Vince. I guess what I'm tryin' to say is, if there should ever come a time when ya needed me to, I always wanna know I'd be able to find ya. Just in case."  
  
A day would come when all the battles were done, A day when there would be other promises spoken between them; but for the present, a path which had lain in darkness for so many long, lonely years was graced by the light of two small stars.  
  
Vincent nodded, smiling in assurance to Cid's unspoken hope for that as yet unknowable day.  
  
"Just in case."


End file.
